Weak Link? Most Likely
by SomeRandomFemale
Summary: Being killed by my mother was a traumatizing experience. Now I have to deal with being born again, meeting my new parents, and not getting killed. Just my luck. SI/OC.
1. Chapter 1

My death was slow and painful. I did not get hit by a car or train. I was not in a mugging and stabbed to death. I was killed by my crazy, drug addicted mother.

It was a typical night in out household, filled with screaming and objects being thrown at one another. My mother and older brother were arguing… Again. I had no idea what they were yelling about, but it made no difference to me. It had becoming a sick and twisted routine for my family. If you could even call us that.

"This has nothing to do with me, leave me out of it." After this words left my mouth a strange sense of foreboding filled my entire being, but I immediately brushed it off. I walked away, intending to go up to my room and hopefully get some sleep. My mother had other plans.

I heard that sound of more glass breaking from downstairs after I closed my door, followed by a resounding slamming of the front door. My brother had left for work and my mother was still throwing a tantrum in her drug induced state. It always took her ten minutes for her to cool herself off before she would burst into my room laughing like nothing happened at all.

What I did not expect was after five minutes my door would be off the hinges, my mother pulling me off my bed and using all her strength to slam a steel baseball bat into my small, barely sixteen year old person. I had no idea what she was aiming for but I could tell my collar-bone shattered, if the crack had I heard gave me a hint.

I had no time to curl into myself to reduce the damage before she swung the bat down again… Again… Again.. Again.

I heard screaming and I couldn't tell if it was her or me, I just knew I was in pain. Unimaginable pain. I heard banging and I couldn't tell if it was coming from the front door of our apartment of from the bat continuously meeting my body. I watched the woman above me raise the bloodied bat above her head before I met her eyes head on.

"P-please…" I coughed up a bit of blood before I could finish.

"Now this has something to do with you, huh?!" She sneered before bring the bat down to meet my head.

What happened next was a bit harder to explain, seeing as how I only saw flashes from that point on. The point is that I died, okay?

So you can imagine my shock when I woke up hours later wrapped up in a warm towel, held against some woman's chest. I could hear words, or at least what I thought were words, being exchanged by two deep male voice. I noticed the woman running her finger along the length of my face, in a way meant to be comforting but honestly just crept me out.

'What the hell is this woman doing?!'

Trying to slap her hand away didn't work because she just assumed I wanted her finger, which she gladly gave up. Once my fingers were firmly wrapped around her index finger I noticed another odd thing. My hands were short, stubby and a lot paler than they originally had been.

The annoying sound of a baby crying reached my ears before I actually realized the sound was coming from me.

**AN: ****So, I have read a lot of self insert fic's and I suppose I got some inspiration from it. That's why I wrote my own~ Tell me what you think and if you have constructive criticism please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

My second mother took me home sometime after I was born, I had no clue when because I was stuck in a in a hospital room all day. As soon as she stepped into the house she was greeted by a tall, lanky man. He kissed her on the cheek before smiling down at me.

I could tell they were having a conversation but my hearing had not developed enough for me to hear their soft words. Instead, I took that time to study both my second mother and this man.

My second mother had light brown hair that went just past her shoulder with matching does like eyes. She was pale with high cheekbones and her smile was one that seemed to instantly calm a person. The man, who I soon realized was my father, had short black hair with bright green eyes. He was tan with obvious laugh lines around his mouth and his smile, in contrast to my second mother's, was stretched out in a wide grin that seemed to be infectious.

Moments after their conversation finished I was carefully placed in my fathers arms, where he held me almost hesitantly. I immediately thought of him as my father because I never had the opportunity to have a father in my first life, I would not let this opportunity go to waste.

My father carried me to a room which was filled with all kinds of baby necessities, but instead of everything being a light pink everything was in varying shades of blue. I opened my mouth and began saying something like "What the hell?" before I realized on unintelligible gurgles passed my lips.

'This will have to take some getting used to.'

I heard a deep sheepish chuckle from somewhere above me, causing me to look up at the black-haired man holding me. His mouth moved and sounds came out before a dramatic sigh passed his lips.

'Is he mocking me?' Was my immediate thought as I blinked up at him.

He must have caught my puzzled expression because his face flushed an interesting shade of red the next second. He opened his mouth again, this time the sounds that came out were louder and, before he turned his attention back to the room.

'Seriously, how does he expect me to understand what he's saying."

It took me days to get used to the fact that my room was blue instead of pink, and in the long run I was actually glad. Blue had always been my favorite color but I did find myself wondering why they choose it. Maybe they were expecting a boy and got a little ahead of themselves.

My room, however, was the only thing I quickly got used to. Being carried everywhere and having my diapers changed by someone was something that I would need some adjusting to. It would be hard to get used to depending on someone else for my survival. The one thing that I would never, ever get used to was breast-feeding. I could not refuse it though, my baby instincts took over as soon as the stand liquid would hit my tongue. It's a traumatizing experience, right behind my homicide.

After weeks of being carried around the house by either my father or second mother, whoever was not working at the time, I was finally taken to breathe fresh air. I was strapped to my second mothers back, getting a full view of almost every part of the shopping district in my new hometown. I noticed, however, that the town resembled a village in more ways than one. Should I call it my home village, then?

The village sat comfortably in the middle of what seemed like a dense forest. In place of paved road and cemented sidewalk was merely dirt. 'Why is this place so primitive?', was my first thought. That was until I noticed how everyone would greet each other with a welcoming smile. Even the people who's only expression appeared to be nothing more than a blank face would nod in acknowledgement.

Hell, people would even direct their smiles at me, a baby! And since I didn't want to offend them I would send them a toothless grin. I had no idea what I looked like but judging by their reactions I'll go on a limb here and say that I was nothing less than adorable.

The shopping district had a surprisingly impressive overflow of people. My guess was that it was one of the most popular and liveliest parts of the village. So far, I could tell I was going to like it here, it was small but you could clearly tell that everyone cared for one another. By the time I was carried back home I was thoroughly tuckered out.

'Seriously, why does this body come with such low stamina?'

For several months I tried my absolute best to pick up on the language. And slowly but surely I was getting the hang of it. When alone in my room I would practice proper pronunciation as well as basic sentence structure. It was somewhat of a challenge since the only language I had known in my previous life was English.

I decided that I would only speak when I so desperately needed to, so I held back when it came to speaking my first words. This lead to some... amusing actions taken by my father, who was adamant on getting me to speak. My second mother was definitely more subtle than my father but I could tell that she too was growing anxious with anticipation. Hoping to draw their attention away from the fact that I remained stubbornly silent close to almost a full year of life, I decided to give them some kind of relief.

I could hear my parents talking quietly, no doubt making plans that they were sure would get me to speak, in the kitchen. I sat in the living room, stacking blocks before I decided that this would be the perfect time to relieve them. I slowly stood up, prepared to walk into the kitchen, before my legs gave out. I fell backwards, crashing right into a stack of foam triangle blocks.

A soft, frustrated noise passed my lips before I stood again, this time having more success. I waddled back and forth a few times experimentally, before making my way to the kitchen.

I stood at the entrance for several moments, watching my father and second mother with what I thought was a black expression. Both were huddled close together, whispering to, on the other side of the kitchen. I didn't want to waddle towards them, afraid that I would cause too much noise and get caught. Where would be the fun in that?

After five minutes of waiting patiently my second mother finally turned to my direction. When she noticed how I just stood at the entrance her eyes widened a fraction. She mumbled something to my father, it was too low for my still developing ears to pick up, but whatever she said got his attention immediately. The tall male turned around quickly, almost falling in the process, with a surprised expression.

We all stood there for a moment, staring at each other in silence, before a bright grin slid on my fathers face. He ran towards me and tossed knew up in the air, causing loud laughter to pass through my lips. That was baby instincts, not me. Never me.

I could just barely hear my parents words of approval as my laughter carried all through out the house. I didn't realize it was so easy to please one's parents.

It took me another month to finally figure out my parents name as well as my own. My second mother's name is Asa and my father's name is Hiro. It was easy to figure out theirs once I found out that "-chan" and "-kun" were usually placed at the end of names.

My name was more of a puzzle, mostly because my second mother called me "Deki-chan" while my father called me "Hi-chan". It wasn't until my second mother scolded me for ditching her to chase a cat that I heard my full name. Hideki Saito. I decided that I liked the name once I whispered it to myself about ten times.

I never understood why my second mother's friends would always giggle whenever I was introduced to them. Not even my father's friends would laugh, they merely ruffled my hair and introduced themselves. For the next couple of weeks my mothers female friends would giggle every time they called me, this caused me to be anxious and frustrated. Actually, this was around the time that I stopped referring to my second mother as my second mother.

One night after my second mother's friends left, only about thirty minutes after they arrived, the woman sat on the couch with me placed comfortably in her lap. I looked up at her with a confused expression because usually I would be tucked in after she had "Girl Time". She placed a light kiss on the top of my head before she spoke.

"Hideki-chan is a beautiful, strong girl. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Do you know why those women laughed when I introduced you to them?" Her voice was a gentle as her gaze, but held a certain firmness to it. I briefly wondered why she referred to them as "those women" instead of "my friends" as I shook my head.

"They laughed because of your name, because it is a boy's name. Which you are most certainly not. Like those women, people will make fun of you for that small reason. Some may even judge you, but you are not to respond negatively. Instead, hold your head high and be proud. Tell them that your name holds more value and worth than they realize." With that said she placed a kiss on my forehead before pulling me into a hug, a small sigh passing her lips.

"I love my name, Kaa-san." My voice came out slightly more high-pitched than I would have liked but I still got the message across. I wondered if she heard me because for several minutes she did not reply. Then she began laughing out of the blue.

At that exact moment I realized the woman holding me did not deserve to be called my second mother. She never abandoned me or treated me like crap. She only spoke soft encouraging words and she was always there. From now on I will only acknowledge this woman as an important part of my life. This woman was definitely my mother.

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**A/N: I want to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and added this story to their favorites. I really appreciate the support for this series, considering the fact that I wasn't even going to post it. Seriously, every time I get an Alert for this story I immediately have the urge to cry. Also, at the end of each chapter I will tell you all something about myself. Just so I can feel a bit closer to my readers. So here goes.**

**According to my mother, my favorite song when I was younger was "Thong Song" by Sisqo.**

**-SomeRandomFemale**


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